On a recent trip to Oxford, I did something I had not done in a very long time - I rode a BICYCLE. For those who have forgotten what this is, like myself a month ago, imagine this picture without the whole 'why the hell did I give my four year old son photoshop?' appearance.
So this trip to Oxford really reminded me how much fun cycling is, and it worried me, because my days of cycling as an active, excitable child (yes, active - shut up) are nearly over.
The problem is, after childhood, city cyclists get lumped into groups, each as irritating as the others. (Of course this doesn't apply to small towns and the countryside, because most people there are not as quick to judge. Although this does make Best Sheep competitions nearly impossible to adjudicate, meaning the winner must be decided with a gladiator fight in which a sword is blu-tacked to the face of each sheep and they are all dropped into a ditch containing one bottle of surgical spirit. The first sheep to decide he is above such games and leave is declared the winner.)
Oh yes, city cycling groups.
- Most common in younger people, there's the 'Look, I'm so totally superior because this bike goes with my vintage satchel (and I don't care that it makes me lean to one side meaning I'm probably going to fall off). My bike so completes my outfit, doesn't it? Doesn't it? I know, it so does.'
- Mainly found in women aged over 30, there's the 'Look, I'm so totally superior because I'm risking my life and tripling my journey time to save about 3 grams of iceberg from melting due to climate change. I'm such a hero, aren't I? Aren't I? I know, I so am.'
- There are also the sweet yet annoyingly slow older women, the 'Look dear, I've got some apples in my basket. They're from the grocer's. Isn't that just charming? Isn't it? I know, it so is.'
- Then there are those fitness types. They're not too bad - like gym-goers, but they've managed to make it to the outside world. Good for them.
- Then of course, the businessmen. You know, the 'If I'm on a bike, everyone will think I left the porsche at home. No one will ever suspect it's just a BMW. Bwaha. Aha. Ha.'
- Finally, there are the injured ones. You know, the 'Ugh, a car drove through a red light and now I only have one arm.' Strangely, these aren't usually seen on their bicycles.
So that's it. I'm moving to the countryside. And who knows, I could win best sheep.
Right, two posts in one week. If anyone is still complaining, I'm going to get a super injunction. Then no one will be allowed to even mention this blog again. Pah.
Thanks to Imogen for letting me stay with her in Oxford to research this article. Okay, so it wasn't for research. And I don't think this little blog post counts as an article. But you get the gist.
Picture: Google images. Not sure if I actually need to credit them but better safe than sued.